


Cherry blossoms cut by hand, such fragile gifts

by olympia_m



Series: My pillow floats on a river of tears, so how can I have any dreams? [2]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series, 闇の末裔 | Yami No Matsuei | Descendants of Darkness
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, Suicide Attempt, cross-over, non-con elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 14:51:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13148985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olympia_m/pseuds/olympia_m
Summary: The night is darkest before dawn (or a story where Feilong tries to get his revenge, but manages to confuse himself, and Oriya just slides deeper and deeper into his dark thoughts).





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the story comes from the Kokinshu poem KKS I: 55

Feilong waited for three weeks before he decided that he would call Mibu. Three weeks in which his men gave him a more detailed report on the man, from which he learned three things: Mibu and Dr Muraki had studied together, the doctor treated Mibu’s house as his home at least once a year, and Mibu was single. 

Well, who would want such a lying whore as a partner?

The call was picked up immediately. “Yes?” Mibu sounded happy. 

Feilong smiled despite himself, and then remembered he was still angry at him. 

“Muraki?” Mibu said hesitantly. 

Muraki, eh? Feilong stayed quiet. The lying whore didn’t even remember giving him his number.

“You’re making me worry,” Mibu continued in a soft voice. “Unless,” Mibu gasped, “Is that Liu-sama?”

Feilong decided to answer. “It is.”

“Oh, I do owe you an apology, Liu-sama, for leaving as I did. Please forgive me, but my friend came to pick me up and…” Mibu sighed deeply. 

“I understand,” Feilong lied as if he didn’t know that Mibu had contacted his friend first. 

“Thank you. Does this mean you will allow me to return the favour and accept my hospitality sometime soon?”

“I was wondering if I could have your address so I can send you your purchases. You did not have to repay me,” he said, trying to hide his annoyance. “And how did you know where to send the money?” His question probably betrayed him, though. 

“I have my ways,” Mibu laughed. He suddenly stopped. “A pity, though. Kyoto is beautiful this time of the year.”

“I’m too busy for playing tourist. Or courier.”

“Ah. Of course.” Mibu snorted. “Of course you’re a busy person. Hm. You can burn everything for all I care.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t care about ‘my purchases’,” he sneered. “Burn them if they bother you, or throw them away. I don’t care.”

Feilong frowned. If Mibu hadn’t forgotten them, if Mibu had left them behind on purpose…. Did that mean that Mibu wanted to see him again? “Did you want me to come visit you?” he blurted out, finishing his thought out loud. 

Mibu made a soft sound. “You’re a busy person. I understand.”

Great, now he had offended Mibu. As if that lying liar who lied had any right to be offended after the way he’d behaved and all the lies he’d told Feilong. “All I know is that you could have told your friend to pick them up when he broke into my home, instead of foisting them to me.”

“My friend did what?”

“You heard me.”

Mibu sighed. “I apologise for his behavior.”

“Why? Did you send him to my house?”

“Of course not,” Mibu replied immediately, affronted. “I,” he started saying and then, “Please forgive my friend for his thoughtless actions,” he changed his mind about whatever he meant to say.

Feilong smirked. “If I come to Kyoto, will you apologize on his behalf properly? Fall on your knees and bow down to me?”

Mibu hung up. 

Feilong started laughing. That lying liar needed to be taught a lesson and he would be happy to… His phone rang. He picked it up. “Liu here.”

“Liu-sama,” Mibu told him in a clipped tone, “Just because you are who you are, you cannot insult people like that. Or rather, especially because of who you are, you cannot insult people like that.”

“I…”

“No, you will listen to me,” Mibu continued. “You should have either accepted my apology or tell me to get Muraki to apologise to you. Not ask me to bow down to you as if Muraki harmed you or your own, and as if I were responsible for what Muraki did. If I were, I would have apologized properly without your prompting,” Mibu huffed and cut off the call again. 

This time Feilong called him. 

“What now?” Mibu barked.

“I’m sorry. You are right,” Feilong said. “Apology accepted.”

“Thank you. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Feilong banged his head on his desk. Fucking lying liar, pretending to be all polite and nice and soft around the edges. He wasn’t sure he liked Mibu as much as he’d liked ‘Hiromasa’ but it looked like it would be easier if he just agreed to whatever Mibu wanted. “I’ll come to Kyoto to bring you your instruments. When would it be a good time to visit?”

“Any time Liu-sama wishes to visit would be a good time,” MIbu said brightly. 

“Great.” And now the lying liar was back to pretending being nice. 

“Remember,” Mibu continued, “You will be my guest. Don’t you dare insult me further by staying at a hotel.”

“No, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he lied as he hung up. But perhaps this was a good thing, acquiescing to Mibu’s demands. He would go to Kyoto and teach him a lesson. Or maybe just buy him. Mibu was probably the most expensive and exclusive whore in Japan to have that attitude. Feilong couldn’t wait to fuck him.


	2. Chapter 2

Oriya was in the middle of dinner when Hanako informed him that his guest had arrived. “What guest?” 

“The one from Hong-Kong.”

Liu had decided to visit him so soon after his phone call? That had been… what, two days ago? He grinned, feeling a strange warmth inside him. He had liked Liu a lot, and not just because he was so attractive.

Hanako hid her smile. “Should I put him in the room used by your other special guests? And his friends to two of the other guest rooms?”

“Yes, please. But can you bring him here first?” 

Hanako did laugh at him at that. “Of course.”

Oriya made a face. Just because he couldn’t hide his emotions his maids were so mean to him. 

Less than two minutes later Hanako let Liu in and then closed the door softly behind her. 

“You look well,” Liu said, smiling. He sat down, facing him. “Thank you for hosting me.”

“It’s the least I can do.” He smiled back. Liu looked even better than he remembered. Straight black hair, dark, black eyes, pale skin, he looked like a figure out of a painting. How could anyone be so beautiful? If Oriya were lucky, he’d see him with cherry blossom petals on his hair; he’d look so lovely like that.

“Isn’t it early for….” 

Hanako opened the door again at that moment and brought a tray with several covered dishes. She bowed, set it in front of Liu, and left just as quietly as she’d come in. 

“As I was saying, isn’t it early for dinner?”

“No. I’m working from six today, and you’ve just had airplane food. Please.”

“You really are bossy,” Liu laughed. 

“Of course.” He resumed eating. 

Liu followed his example. “I brought your pipa and the sanxian.”

“Thank you.” Oriya cursed work. He wanted to how Liu around Kyoto, and play with his new acquisitions, but he’d have to wait. 

Liu studied him. “You do look well,” he suddenly said.

Oriya grinned. Did that mean that Liu perhaps did find him somewhat attractive? Oh, he hoped it did. Hope was a sudden, small pain in the centre of his chest, but he liked it. “I ought to. People pay me to look pretty,” he said, not daring to ask what he really wanted, and stood up. “Speaking of which, I need to get ready for tonight. Do you have any plans for this evening?”

“No.”

“How do you feel about modern Japanese dance?”

“I have no real feelings about it.”

“Then you wouldn’t object to it, right?” He went to his desk and took out an invitation. “I always get sent a couple of these but I rarely manage to go. At least this won’t go to waste.”

Liu took it. “Thank you.” 

He almost sighed. He wanted to go see the performance too, and then talk about it with Liu, but work was more important. So many of his customers wanted to be reassured that he was well, and for the first time in years, Oriya felt like indulging them, agreeing to their requests to hear him play. 

Admittedly, not being able to hear their perverted thoughts made it easier to put up with them. It had been surprisingly easy to learn how to function without that ability, even though he still felt like he’d been crippled. But at that moment, faced with Liu, ah, how would he like to have it back, even if he had to listen in to all the perverted thoughts in Japan. He smiled, trying to control himself. “Let me know how it was.”

“Will do.” Liu frowned at the tiny squids and then took a bite. “Hm.”

Oriya smiled. “I’m going to have a bath, but you may stay here until you’ve finished your meal.” 

Liu raised an eyebrow. “And then, what?”

“Your room is directly above mine,” Oriya said, opening the door. “Up the stairs,” he said pointing towards them. “If you want to have a bath, the bathroom is at the end of the corridor to the left. Apologies, it’s Japanese in style, so please refrain from having a bubble bath in the tub.”

Liu snorted. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“Thank you.” He bowed slightly, and made to close the door. Then he grinned. “I’m really glad you decided to visit me. Thank you. I hope you will enjoy your stay here.” 

Liu nodded. “I’m certain I will.”

Oriya closed the door, and then stopped smiling. If only he had more free time to spend it with Liu, and find out if maybe, maybe…. He sighed. He dared not hope much. Nothing had come out of all his other hopes, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Feilong woke up disoriented. It took him a while to realise that the bird song was what had disturbed his sleep. A quick glance at his mobile showed him that it was almost five-thirty. How ridiculously early was that? 

He sat up and looked around. Yes, he really was in a different world. In the dull, grey, pre-dawn light everything looked even simpler. How could anyone live in this place? It looked like something out of a picture book on traditional Japanese architecture, all sparse and minimalist. 

Well, since he was awake, he might as well get up. A bath sounded like a good idea. He took the yukata someone had laid out for him and went downstairs. He stopped in front of the door of Mibu’s room. What if he peeked inside? That would be rude, but… he was so tempted. 

Just a small peek, how could that hurt?

He slid the door open slightly. Mibu was a duvet-covered lump in the middle of the room. Feilong couldn’t see anyone next to him. So, he didn’t bring his clients to his room. Clearly he liked to separate his personal life from work. Feilong smirked. He’d change that and fuck MIbu on his bed.

He closed the door as softly as he opened it and went to the bathroom. It was still dark, but not that dark that he could not see what he was doing. He stripped, poured water, and started washing himself. 

Soon, though, he started touching himself, his soapy hand gliding easily against his cock, the water cooling on his body making him shiver and harden further. He poured more warm water and it was like a soothing caress, tempting him to stroke himself faster. He had to lean against the wall, so intense the sensation was. Warm water, slippery soap, steady fingers on burning flesh. Feilong pinched his left nipple as he rubbed the precome on the head of his cock. The sensation spread from his dick and his chest to the rest of his body and he needed just one more touch, one more stroke, one more…

He heard a breathless ‘I’m sorry’ behind him and he turned, unashamed. Mibu was closing the door to the bath, but Feilong caught a glimpse of his face, eyes wide open, cheeks flushed, mouth open and soft. Feilong closed his eyes and replayed Mibu’s expression in his head, imagining him sliding on his knees, his own, artless lover shocked at how much he wanted Feilong. 

He came at that, not even managing to imagine Mibu sucking his dick. 

&*&*

Mibu avoided him the rest of the day, so Feilong wandered around Kyoto, admiring the cherry trees. They were spectacular, and there was something otherworldly in walking under the shade of thousands of their delicate, small flowers, even when he was surrounded by hundreds of others enjoying the sight.

The doctor had been right, though; the cherry tree at the garden of Mibu’s house was a most spectacular specimen. Its branches covered a large area, and its flowers hid the sky when one stood beneath it. When he grew tired of wandering, Feilong came back, took a pillow, asked for a bottle of sake and a cup, and sat against its trunk, looking up at its blossoming limbs as the sky grew slowly darker.

“Having your private flower viewing party?” 

He looked away from the tree. Mibu was leaning against a beam, dressed in a light grey kimono that would have been respectable, if it weren’t for the fact that it was decorated with flowering branches on one shoulder and the hem. 

“Indeed, I am.”

Mibu smiled. He turned around, going back into his room, and Feilong noticed that the branches also covered part of the back of his kimono, as if Mibu was wrapped inside a tree. Was that a cherry tree? He reached back and caressed the tree behind him, as he looked up at its branches. “I think he loves you very much.”

The tree did not answer him, of course it didn’t, but a light breeze made some of the petals fall down on Feilong. It felt like an answer, and he smiled. If only…. He saw movement from the corner of his eye and he looked down again. 

Mibu placed a blanket down, and knelt on that. “I can join you for a while,” he said as he picked up the bottle and poured some sake for Feilong first, and then a cup for himself. “What troubles you?”

“Eh?”

“You were frowning.”

Feilong smiled. “If only everything in life was as uncomplicated as the beauty of this tree.”

“You think its beauty is uncomplicated?” Mibu looked at the tree. “Hm.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I find beauty dreadful, and attractive too. Beauty is never simple.”

Feilong picked up a few petals. “I disagree. Beauty is beauty: it is us who complicate its meaning.”

“Beauty as a mirror of ourselves?”

“More of a stimulus for thought and action.”

“Still, you describe beauty without agency. How is that different from a mirror?”

“In a mirror we see ourselves; a stimulus is something separate from us, not a reflective surface, but something inspiring. Something to make us create, and do, or think something outside ourselves.”

“Beauty as inspiration. Hm.”

“You disagree still,” Feilong smiled. 

“I’m thinking about it,” Mibu smiled back. “To think of beauty as inspiration, means to think of beauty as something eternal, something defined by principles that are universal and understood by all human beings. But I think beauty is dreadful, and ephemeral, and subjective. Beauty is like truth: each person has his own truth, and each person finds his own beauty. And that is what makes it complicated.”

“Still, there must be something universally understood when we speak of beauty, or else we would not be able to discuss it. You’d say ‘this is beauty’ and I wouldn’t understand. If I understand your beauty is because Beauty, with a capital, is beyond subjective reasoning and appreciation, but universally acknowledged.”

“Perhaps I understand what ‘your beauty’ is because I understand the idea of ‘my beauty.’ That you, as a fellow, human being with the same physiology, that is a being with the same emotions, reactions, and ability for thought as I, must also have the same ability for understanding some sort of beauty as I do, even when it is not the sort of beauty I acknowledge or understand.”

“But that implies universal principles in understanding beauty.”

“No, it doesn’t. It implies understanding of A Beauty, whereas you talk of The Beauty. Two very different things.”

“If that were the case, though, then…”

A short, old woman with a loud voice interrupted him. “Young Master, what are you doing? Come here, right now.”

Mibu grinned. “Oops. I’m afraid I am needed.” He stood up and smiled at him. “Maybe we can continue this discussion later? Or not. As you wish. Speaking of wishes, just ask any of the maids for dinner. Today we have some lovely kinmedai, so I hope you will enjoy it.”

“Young Master,” the old woman shrieked. 

Mibu made a face. “She’s loud,” he mouthed at Feilong. “I’ll see you later. Or not. Enjoy your evening.” He hurried back to the house.

The old woman shook her head. “Young Master. Let me look at you.” She moved around him, looking at him critically. “Hm. Good. Go to work. Now. Your customer has been waiting long enough already.”

“Fine,” Mibu sounded like an annoyed child. 

Feilong grinned, feeling a sudden swell of fondness for poor, little Mibu: forced to work when he wanted to play. Then he shook his head. He wasn’t supposed to becoming as fond of Mibu as he had been of ‘Hiromasa’; he was supposed to be upset and annoyed and wanting to use him. 

But Mibu was attractive, and charming, and intelligent. Feilong wanted to spend more time with him, and talk about books and philosophy and…. He poured himself another cup and looked up. If only things were as uncomplicated as this beautiful tree. 

When he looked down, he saw the old woman studying him. “Excuse me,” he shouted at her. “May I talk to you for a moment?”

“Yes,” she shouted back. “But lower your voice. I’m not deaf.”

Feilong grinned again as he stood up. “So,” he asked the woman when he was finally next to her, tempted to kneel down so he could look her in the eyes, “what must I do to become Mibu’s customer? And how soon can he serve me?”

The woman stared at him. “The Young Master chooses whether he will serve his special guests.”

“Please? He promised to play music for me, but at this rate I’ll need to book his services if I am to hear him.”

“Of course he’d do that,” she huffed. She took out a small diary from her obi, opened it and studied it. “Hm, I thought that was for tomorrow. Yes, yes.” She closed it and looked up at him. “You’re in luck. One of our customers has cancelled his booking for tonight. The Young Master is free between nine and ten tonight.”

“Great.”

“In that case, I would suggest dinner at seven thirty. Would you like to change before that?”

Feilong nodded. “Thank you for your consideration.” He looked at his mobile. Six thirty. Just enough time for a quick shower and a change of clothes. He didn’t even have time to do his hair. 

&*&*

The food was excellent but Feilong’s mind was elsewhere. How should he approach Mibu? Or should he leave everything to him? Probably that was the right thing to do. Ah, but he hadn’t even told that old woman what he liked in a lover. So, he’d have to tell that Mibu himself. 

While he ate and while he waited, he drank. At some point he thought that he might have drunk more than he could tolerate, but the sake was good and he liked it. So, he kept on drinking. 

“Good ev…. Ah, it’s Liu-sama,” Mibu said as he opened the door, immediately smiling at him. He then let three brilliantly dressed young women walk in, one in a purple, one in a pink, and the other in a pale blue kimono. 

“You promised to play music for me, but you’ve been avoiding me.”

Mibu closed the door. “I’ve been busy,” Mibu corrected him gently.

“Yes, after making so much fuss about me being too busy to come here.”

“I’m sorry,” Mibu said with a soft smile. “Allow me to make it up to you. Since this is your first visit here, you have to listen to the ballad of Gion.” 

Feilong sat back and listened. And listened. And listened. To some whiny song about the moon over a mountain and being in love with maiko. “Can you play something faster? That was boring.”

Mibu glared at him for a second. Then he smiled again. “Maybe the Cricket?”

That was faster, but that was not what Feilong wanted. “I think I prefer your sad songs,” he said, gesturing for one of the women to pour him more sake. 

Mibu looked at him strangely. “Then, Boat of Dreams may be a suitable song for you.”

Feilong kept on drinking while Mibu sang about drifting through life while having pointless love affairs. Did they have songs about people with no love affairs in Gion? He slumped on his seat. “Can you send them away? The girls?”

“So cruel,” one of the maiko started saying, but then Mibu made a gesture and they left.

“Thanks.” He poured more sake. “This is really pleasant.”

“Just now you were very rude,” Mibu chided him.

“I wanted to hear you, not see them.”

“My music is meant to be danced, and make people drink and be happy. Although,” Mibu smiled, “I think you’ve had enough to drink.”

“Not really.” Feilong poured himself another cup and emptied it in one go. He started pouring another cup and Mibu stopped him by taking the bottle from him. “Is that what you do with your customers? Play music for them?”

Mibu nodded. “What else would I do?”

“Fuck them? Why couldn’t you be a whore?” Feilong asked, disappointed. 

Mibu frowned. Feilong saw his fist come towards him in slow motion and then he felt it smash against his face. Then he fell down, and he hurt no more.


	4. Chapter 4

Oriya was busy playing with his food when the door to the dining room opened. He glanced up, saw Liu walk in slowly, and looked away, resisting the urge to punch Liu again. He thought he was over his anger, but clearly not. He pushed the fish around some more. 

Liu sat down gracelessly. “I must apologise,” he said, “but I don’t know how. Should I kneel and bow down, or saying ‘I’m sorry’ will suffice?”

Oriya sighed. “You only kneel and bow when you’ve done something irrevocable. Just say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Liu kept staring at him. “Now what?” 

Liu touched the bruise on his cheek. “Well, I know I did something stupid, but I can’t remember why I have to apologise.”

Oriya took a very deep breath. “You insulted me. So I punched you. I’m not sorry.”

Liu blinked. “I must have been very rude.”

“And very drunk too.”

“Can you tell me what I said to insult you? So I can apologise and mean it?”

“You basically called me a whore,” he said, trying to keep his anger out of his voice. Although, it had been worse; Liu had wanted him to be a whore. 

“Oh,” Liu looked like he was going to be sick. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“No, you did. That’s why I’m telling you what you did, so you won’t do it again.” 

“I’m sorry,” Liu repeated, looking away from him. 

“Clearly, whoever informed you about what I do was misinformed.” Oriya suddenly felt like a nail was being pushed inside the back of his right eye. He didn’t know if his anger, or the obvious embarrassment and misery on Liu’s face had triggered his migraine, but something had. There went the rest of the day. “Liu-sama, why on earth would you want a prostitute?”

“Stop that ‘Liu-sama’,” Liu said, still ashamed. “After what I did last night, you have the right to call me by my name. Feilong. Or punish me somehow. Or kick me out.”  
Oriya smiled. If he’d really wanted to punish Feilong he would have had his staff put him up in his room, and then let him break his stupid neck coming down the stairs, instead of asking them to take him to his own room, conveniently located on the ground floor. “You are still my guest, since I didn’t kick you out last night. But, if I do call you ‘Feilong’, you should call me Oriya. So, Feilong, will you answer my question?”

“I don’t want just any prostitute. What I want is…” Feilong shook his head. “Why am I telling you this?”

“Because you owe me. And because you know that, if that is what you want, I can provide it for you.” 

Feilong took a deep breath. “I want a prostitute who will pretend to love me.” He stared at Oriya. “Can you provide me with that?”

“Why on earth would you want that?” Feilong frowned as if his question was stupid, so he continued. “Well, you are handsome, smart, kind, generous, as well as rich and powerful. You can have anyone you want. You don’t need a …”

“But how do I know that they want me and not my money or my power?” 

“Loving someone is a risk. Why not take it? Besides, you are an intelligent man. I don’t think anyone could fool you for long,” he smiled. 

“I only meet ambitious social-climbers, other crime lords, and jaded rich girls. I can’t trust them.”

Poor, lonely, little, rich boy. He couldn’t stay angry at Feilong. Not when he was so lonely. So scared of relationships. Who had hurt him to make him like this? Instead of asking that, he decided that he had to tell him something logical. “Then maybe you need to expand your social circles. Although….”

“Yes?”

“If you act the way you acted yesterday, I think that finding a lover will be difficult.” 

“Why? What did I do?”

“You were horribly rude to the maiko. You even sent them away as if they had insulted you.”

“But all I wanted was…”

Oriya narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say it.”

“What?”

“That all you wanted was to be alone with me so you could fuck me.” And shatter that tiny, stupid hope of his. Wasn’t his anger just a result of his disappointment? And he couldn’t even stay angry at Feilong. The nail behind his eye grew larger.

Feilong laughed, clearly awkward. “Are you always so blunt?”

“Yes, ever since I realised that people tend to ignore what I say, I started being rude. That tends to get their attention.”

“I see.”

“Anyway, as I was saying, yesterday you were horribly rude. I don’t think you will attract a partner with that behavior, even if I introduce you to all the suitable people in Kyoto.”  
Feilong studied him. “What if you teach me how to behave?”

“I don’t have time for this.” Nor was he the right person for that.

“Please?”

Oriya shook his head. 

“What if I just follow you around while you work? Whenever I do something rude you can correct me.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Please?”

He closed his eyes. His migraine moved from the front of his head to the back. “Fine,” he whispered. “But you won’t interfere with what I do, alright?”

“Of course.”

Oh, gods, what had he gotten himself into? “Finish your breakfast. I have a long day ahead.” 

Feilong nodded. 

Oriya got up. Maybe another bath and a couple of painkillers would help with the migraine. “I’ll meet you at the entrance in half an hour.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

&*&*

While at the bath Oriya thought the whole thing had been a very strange dream, but then he walked to the entrance and found Feilong waiting for him, his two bodyguards discreetly a few feet away. He decided he’d ignore them. At least his migraine was no longer so demanding. He even managed to smile at Feilong. 

“So, what is the plan today?”

“Music practice first.”

“But you’re good.”

“And with practice is how I stay good.”

Feilong made a face. “For some reason, I thought talent was enough when it came to music.”

Oriya laughed. “It’s as enough as it is when you do martial arts. It can’t get you very far unless you practice.”

“True.” Feilong grinned. “So, was I being rude right now?”

“No, you were being naïve.” Oriya smiled at him. It was quite endearing. The thought depressed him. Feilong didn’t want him, he reminded himself. 

“Hm.” Feilong looked around him. “This place is a madhouse. How can you cope with all these tourists?”

“I ignore them.” And he tried not to curse out loud when they walked slowly and blocked his path. 

Feilong snorted. “I don’t think I can manage that. They’re so many, and the way they stare at anyone in traditional Japanese clothes? If I were you I would feel like being in a zoo.”

“You should see how they are when they see a maiko.”

Feilong stayed silent for a while. “Can you arrange for me to meet the maiko to whom I was rude yesterday? I would like to apologize to them.”

Oriya smiled warmly at that. He had apologized to them on Feilong’s behalf already, but it would be good if Feilong apologized as well. “An excellent idea. I don’t think they are supposed to work at Kokakurou today, but I can ask if they can come by between appointments. You should buy them some small gifts to say you’re sorry.”

“Jewelry?”

“Maybe, but not from here. Let me think. Ah, we’re here.” He knocked softly on the door, and then bowed slightly to Mika-chan, his teacher’s five-year-old daughter. Her hair was tied in the cutest two buns he’d ever seen, with pale, green ribbons that matched her pale, green dress. “Hello. I brought a friend today. It’s his first time in Kyoto and he was curious about everything. Feilong, this is Mika-chan. Mika-chan, Feilong.”

Feilong smiled at her as he took off his shoes. 

“What a lovely kimono you’re wearing today, Mika-chan. These flowers suit you so well,” he said as he followed her.

Mika-chan beamed at the compliment. She opened the door to the music room, bowed and let them in. She then ran back to her room, her feet making a soft sound on the floor. 

“She’s precious, isn’t she?” Oriya smiled as he sat down and took his shamisen out of his case. “I’m learning a couple of new songs, so this might be a bit boring for you.”

“No, I’m certain I’ll like it.”

He raised an eyebrow. Obviously Feilong couldn’t remember a thing from last night. Poor thing, he snorted. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” He heard the noise of Sensei’s footsteps and looked up. “Sensei,” he said as the door opened. “Please forgive me, but I brought a friend today,” he said bowing a little.

“That’s a first.” He turned towards Feilong. “Are you interested in learning music as well?” 

“No, not really. I don’t care much about music.” 

“Rude,” Oriya hissed, nudging Feilong.

Feilong laughed. “I’m trying to learn how not to be rude.”

“From Oriya-kun?” His teacher started laughing and kept on laughing, the sound getting louder and louder, until he started wheezing and tears were running from his eyes. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while,” he managed to gasp, while trying to stop laughing.

“Clearly,” Oriya muttered, glaring at the floor instead of Sensei. 

“Ah,” Sensei sighed, wiping his eyes. “So funny,” he said, and started laughing again. 

“I know all about good manners,” Oriya complained.

“I’m certain of that, Oriya-kun. Ah, ah, ah,” he coughed. He slowly brought himself under control. “Let’s try learning another new thing,” he smiled. “Oriya-kun teaching someone manners.” He started laughing again.

&*&*

After that there was more music (a piano lesson, of all things), kendo practice, lunch with Oriya’s sixty-five-year-old friend who’d had hip replacement surgery, and then, the day truly started. Feilong learned to keep his mouth shut after the second time Oriya hissed ‘rude’ at him, and simply followed as Oriya went to see various suppliers, tried endless sweets, and sipped as many cups of tea. By the time they returned to Kokakurou Feilong felt exhausted and that his mouth had been frozen in a permanent smile.   
“Are we done yet?” he asked as they walked in.

“I still have to double-check that everything is ready for tonight. Maeda-san is good at arranging things, but in the end this is my restaurant, and it is my responsibility that all goes well.”

Feilong felt like collapsing by the door. “I don’t think I’ve walked that much in my life.” 

“You may rest, if you want,” Oriya said softy. 

This was his ‘don’t bother me’ voice, Feilong had realized during the course of the day. So, of course he would continue bothering him. “No, no, I’ve learnt so many things already.”

“Really?”

Feilong grinned. “I am rude, and half the time people don’t deserve my attitude.” He’d realized that early on; his thoughts towards most of the people he’d met that day were uncharitable at best. If he managed to be rude only to those who deserved it, he’d be a more effective leader. 

Oriya smiled brightly at him. This was his honest smile, Feilong had learned that day. The smile he’d given him at Hong Kong every day. The smile he enjoyed the most.

“I’ve also learned that that I need to walk more.”

“So, you’re saying that you want to walk more now?”

“Yes.” 

Oriya nodded. “Then, follow me.”

Feilong did. Into each and every dining room, where Oriya checked the decoration, studied a diary, and then made notes. Into the storeroom, where Oriya selected paintings and bowls and vases, and made Feilong help him carry them. Back into the rooms, where Oriya changed a painting here and a vase there, but Feilong could see what a difference those small changes made. Beauty had to have been based on universal principles; Oriya was just being annoying when he disagreed with him.

Then back into Oriya’s room, where they were served a light dinner that Oriya ate as he was going through his notes and Feilong as he read more of Songling’s Strange Stories. “I think you’d like this one,” he said, putting down the book.

“Which one?”

“The one about the man with the two girlfriends who learn to share him. One is a fox, and the other is a ghost.”

Oriya looked up, grinning. “Yes, I think I would.” He stood up. “I need to go see the women now. You don’t have to follow me.”

He smiled. So, he was being ordered to stay put. Well, he didn’t want to see the women working for Oriya anyway. “So you manage that as well?”

“Well,” Oriya looked embarrassed, “We have a new customer tonight, so I need to make sure that they treat him exactly as he wants.”

“I don’t want to know,” Feilong laughed. He stood up as well. “I think I’ll have a bath. Tell me, when will you play music for me?”

Oriya coughed. “Erm…”

“You promised.” He smiled. “I liked listening to you this morning, but, I’m going to be rude now, it was boring listening to the same piece over and over.”

“I did promise, didn’t I?” He sighed smiling. “At lunch time? Tomorrow maybe? My evenings are booked.”

Feilong was about to ask ‘why did you want me to visit you, if you are too busy to see me for more than five minutes,’ but stopped. That was another rude question and Oriya didn’t deserve that. Oriya had told him he could visit whenever he wanted, but it was Feilong who had decided when to visit him. “Do you think you can get me tickets for the Dances of the Old Capital?”

“Ah, you should have mentioned that earlier. You’ve missed the last performance for today. What time suits you tomorrow?”

“Probably not around lunch time,” he smiled. 

“Afternoon sounds good?” He opened a small box placed on his desk and took out a ticket. “That’s for four-fifty tomorrow. Including entrance to the gardens at around four.”

Feilong’s eyes widened. No wonder Oriya had thought Feilong could produce tickets for sold-out performances like a magician could produce rabbits out of a hat. 

“What? I always have several tickets for my esteemed customers.” He took out another piece of paper. “Want to see another modern dance performance?”

“No, thank you. I might go to the cinema tonight. Or walk around for a while.”

“Ah, alright. Then enjoy your evening.”

Oriya left him. Feilong looked around. The afternoon before, when Oriya had left him alone in his room, Feilong had opened all the wall closets only to find the futon, beddings, clothes, and accessories. That morning, when he’d woken up in Oriya’s room, he’d stumbled out before checking anything. This afternoon, he respected Oriya enough to not pry into his things. After all, the only thing he’d learned was that the man was obsessive-compulsive: everything was ordered according to colour.

He went to have a bath. He really needed it.

&*&*

Feilong had another bath when he returned from his walk. True, one couldn’t have a bubble bath in a Japanese-style bathroom, but there was something very relaxing in soaking in hot water after a thorough scrub. He felt cocooned. Pampered. Protected. Such a warm sensation. Each time he came out of the tub he was half-hard. 

He didn’t want to do anything about it, though. He just wanted to go to bed and lie down. Think about going home. This vacation was nothing like what he had expected when he’d left Hong Kong. He’d started it being annoyed at Oriya, and wanting to fuck him, and now he was back to liking him, the way he thought he liked him when he’d first met him. As for fucking him, yes, he wanted that, but he also wanted more. 

He wanted visits to temples and gardens, discussions about books, arguments about philosophy, and going to concerts, watching Oriya close his eyes and breathe together with the music. He wanted to know if his body would be as responsive to being touched as a musical instrument, and what kind of music it would make. He wanted those shining eyes turned towards him and that honest smile directed at him. He wanted, no, he needed these things.

Only, he didn’t know what to do to get what he needed anymore. He walked up to his room, wondering how he’d ended up in Oriya’s room that morning. He’d have to ask him, only he still felt ashamed at his behavior. How stupid was he to keep drinking, when he knew his alcohol tolerance was low? If only he hadn’t drunk so much, he wouldn’t have said a thing, and he might still have a chance with Oriya. 

How stupid he’d been. Oriya wasn’t just attractive and intelligent and funny – which he was. He would make also the perfect partner for a crime lord: he knew about the responsibilities and burdens of leading a criminal group. He wasn’t leading his own group – which made him non-antagonistic. He wasn’t ambitious – which made him non-threatening. He was even friends with Dr Muraki. Feilong imagined that he could come home to Oriya drenched in blood and body bits, stinking of gun powder and death, and Oriya would merely direct him to the bathroom and make him tea. How stupid he’d been, he sighed. 

A thin strip of light between the door and the threshold made him stop. He reached for his gun, before he remembered that he had left it in his room before his afternoon bath. He went back down, borrowed Huang’s gun, got Di for back-up, and went up again. 

He opened the door slowly, Di looking out behind him. There was a kimono-clad woman kneeling on the edge of his bed. As the door started opening, she started bowing. 

Di chuckled. “Way to go, Boss,” he said, and left him alone.

Feilong closed the door behind him as carefully as he’d opened it. “Who are you?”

“I am Murasaki. Please, take care of me.” She slowly unfolded herself. She had a perfect oval face, flawless skin, huge, dark eyes and a small mouth with full, pink lips. She was fresh-faced, beautiful, and innocent-looking.

“What are you doing here?” 

“The Young Master sent me.” Her voice was soft.

“I don’t require your services.”

“The Young Master makes no mistakes.” She stood up. “Please, allow me.”

Feilong frowned. 

She reached out for him and took his hand into her own. “Oh, you are so handsome,” she smiled happily. “Won’t you indulge me?” Her eyes were wide and pleading as she looked at him. “Please?” She leaned into him. She smelled of roses. “You look like my first boyfriend,” she said, raising her hand and touching his cheek. “He was from Hong Kong, visiting Kyoto together with his family, and I had been so young, so very young,” she sighed. She pressed herself against him. “I was afraid to give myself to him, and…” She sighed again. “If I could change one thing about my life, that’s what I’d change.” She looked at him. “So, please, indulge me,” she begged him softly.

If she were a liar, she was a more accomplished liar than Oriya ever was to his customers. Feilong didn’t know whether he should believe her or not, but she was warm, and beautiful, and fitted perfectly in his arms. He didn’t want her, but wasn’t that what he’d wanted when he’d first set off for Kyoto? A prostitute that would pretend to love him? And there she was. 

She kissed him, as if she sensed his hesitation. Feilong let himself be pulled down to the bed. This dream is what he’d come for; he’d have that at least, since he couldn’t have what he’d realized he needed.


	5. Chapter 5

Oriya had missed Feilong during breakfast, so he had to wait until lunch time to hear if Feilong had liked his ‘surprise.’

“That was very wicked of you,” Feilong told Oriya the moment he came into the dining room.

“What?” He put down his case and started taking out his shamisen. He didn’t feel like playing music, but a promise was a promise. 

“What you did last night.”

“Wasn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yes, but….”

“Then, why are you complaining?” Oriya told him with a smile. 

Feilong narrowed his eyes for a moment. “Put that away, please. I’d rather talk to you.”

“You are so inconsistent in your desires,” Oriya smirked, yet he started putting the shamisen back in its case, glad to not have to perform. “First you want me to play music, now you want to talk. And you complain about getting the thing you wanted in the first place.”

“I suppose I ought to say thank you,” Feilong grinned. “So, thank you. It was… better than I expected.” He looked away, suddenly looking younger and more awkward than Oriya had ever seen him. How lovely he was.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Oriya told him softly. Like every other time he saw Feilong, he pushed away the flare of desire he felt. Feilong did not want him. 

“It was…” Feilong stopped the moment the door started sliding open. He followed the movement of Hanako with his eyes until the food was served. “It was very tender. I didn’t expect that,” he continued the moment Hanako closed the door. He smiled suddenly. “Oh, no, you really are wicked. You used her to teach me how to behave in bed.” 

Oriya ran a hand through his hair. “Erm…” Of course he had done that. He hadn’t gone through all that trouble of pretending to be perfectly polite for a whole day only to leave Feilong’s education in manners half-finished. Whoever got Feilong after he left Kyoto would get someone who’d treat his partner with respect and care. Or at least someone who could listen when his partner asked him to be careful. 

Feilong shook his head, still grinning. “You’re impossible. But, I guess I needed that lesson. Thank you.” Feilong’s expression was sincere. He liked it. 

“Don’t mention it,” he said instead. 

Feilong leaned close to him. “Is that how you learned?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively. 

Oriya snorted. “What do you think?”

“I think that yes, you did.” Feilong studied him. “She was good, the teacher you chose for me. Very encouraging, and gentle with her corrections. I liked her.”

Oriya smiled, glad to know that Murasaki was still the best when dealing with virgins. Not that Feilong was a virgin, but he certainly was someone who needed training. Like a virgin. The next moment he felt the back of his head hurt. How sick was he, delighting in being good in his profession? 

“Was your teacher like that, I wonder?”

Oriya looked away. Was she? “She was beautiful. More beautiful than Murasaki.” Murasaki was sweet and cute, but Kasumi had been stunning. And he’d been young, and stupid too, and had fallen in love with her, thinking that she’d cared for him a little. “Yes, you could say she was a good teacher.” 

Feilong looked at him. “You fell in love with her. Your eyes don’t lie.”

Oriya looked away, embarrassed. 

“It’s sweet,” Feilong laughed. “Two unlucky lovers. Ah, there was a story in Strange Tales like that. A girl was made to serve in a brothel, but she fell in love with someone and asked him to save her.”

“Did he? I can’t remember.”

“I think so. She gave him a son and in the end they all lived happily ever after.”

Oriya smiled, feeling sick. “I like that. People should live happily after hardships.” In his story, Kasumi started lording it over the other women, and even challenged his father’s authority by flaunting the stupid gifts Oriya had given her. Soon after they fished her body out of the river, and he learned another lesson from her. 

“They should, shouldn’t they?” Feilong said softly. “Speaking of hardships,” he said in a suddenly bright tone, as if he was desperate to change the subject, “How is your friend? The Doctor?” Feilong rolled his eyes upwards dramatically. “He’s so….” He made a vague gesture that could mean anything.

Oriya snorted. “Yes, he is. He is well. Working hard in Tokyo.” For which he’d left the moment he brought Oriya back to his House. He’d given him a kiss on the cheek and then hurried back, leaving Oriya feeling even more stupid than usual for loving Muraki. “I think he’s presenting a paper in Hong Kong next month. I told him not to visit you, but he might be tempted.”

Feilong swallowed hard. “Thanks for the warning. Which conference?” 

“I can’t remember the exact title. Something on new technologies and ethics in medicine.” As if Muraki ever cared for ethics in anything. 

“Ethics and the Doctor in the same room? I’m almost curious to go see that. Not that I will. Your friend is…” he made the same vague gesture. 

Oriya smiled. Feilong obviously needed more training in manners, but Muraki really was crazy and dangerous and obsessive and all the other things Feilong’s gesture implied. He would let him get away with it this time.

“You’re so different from him. I wouldn’t have thought you two were friends.” Feilong grinned. “In fact, when Asami first told me that Muraki was looking for you, I thought that he wanted to kill you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” 

He snorted. Muraki wouldn’t kill him while he was still useful to him. 

Feilong laughed. “I imagine that sounds very funny from your perspective.”

“A little bit,” he smiled. What was funny was that he’d managed to be useful to Muraki for so long. But Muraki now had his Father’s backing; he wouldn’t need him anymore. Pain burst at the whole right side of his head; he imagined if someone hit him with a hatchet it would feel like that. He felt like vomiting. 

“I see.” Feilong studied him. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then thought of it better, and focused on finishing his soup instead.

He too ought to focus on his food instead of his thoughts. But it was so difficult. Thinking of Murasaki had made his head hurt. Thinking of Kasumi had made his stomach hurt. Thinking of Muraki had made his heart ache. Which of the three had triggered the latest migraine? Oriya stood up. “Excuse me. I have a migraine, and I need to take something for it.”

Feilong made a tiny frown. “Of course.” 

Oriya hurried to his room. He opened the drawer where he kept all his medicine, and took two painkillers. Then he looked at the other bottles and packs and sighed. Some of his fellow students had told him that they thought he smoked opium because they had seen him use a pipe, but who needed opium when one had doctors who prescribed him anti-anxiety pills?

He took out the futon and lied down, feeling in pain and miserable. Perhaps a quarter of diazepam wouldn’t hurt. Or a whole pill. Or two. Or… He stood up. He’d need to take them with alcohol, though, if he wanted to be sure they would work. Whisky, the one Muraki had brought him when he last tried to get him drunk. When had that been? And how sad was he that he had let Muraki get him drunk and fuck him while he was unconscious, because that’s what Muraki wanted? 

The scariest thing was that, if Muraki wanted to kill him, he’d let him. Muraki would be quick about it; he’d seen his work. One single stab and that would be it. His brain would have less than twenty seconds to process it all, but during those seconds his mind would think ‘Muraki, you finally did it,’ and he’d be annoyed and relieved at the same time. 

This way was slow, so very slow compared to Muraki’s, but it would do. Oriya picked up a book of poems, sat down and started reading. Last time he’d read poetry had been in Hong Kong. That night, for a moment, he’d been confused and he wanted. Oh, how he wanted. 

But then Muraki came for him, and returned him to this world of shadows and what he wanted no longer mattered. What mattered was what his Father wanted, and his staff, and his customers, so he put on his best smile and his best clothes and hid himself. 

Then Feilong came to visit him, but he wanted a ghost that did not exist, not him. Oriya had been disappointed, and annoyed, and angry, and then had forgiven him because that’s what he always did. 

And then, the two of them held up a mirror that showed Oriya that he was turning into the person Father wanted him to be. Good at weaving dreams and making people surrender their wills and creating the illusion of something beautiful, something that hid the stench of death and the decay of flesh. Good at not caring about the destruction he caused and the blood on his hands. He was turning into someone immoral and dishonorable. 

How could he live like that? Fuck his duties, fuck them all. He couldn’t do it. “Smoke, smoke…”

His eyelids grew heavy. Oriya smiled. A little more, and he too would be smoke. 

&*&*

The underworld looked like nothing he’d expected. It looked like a hospital room. He looked around and saw Feilong staring at him. “Ah.” So, he had failed in that as well. The misery of it hit him in the middle of the chest. 

Feilong frowned. He made a motion, and Oriya saw one of his bodyguards run out of the room. He looked away from Feilong, and a little later he saw the bodyguard come back together with Dr Hanamori. 

Dr Hanamori looked at Feilong. “I’d like to speak to my patient alone for a moment.”

Feilong nodded, and walked out together with the nurse and his bodyguard. 

“That was either very stupid,” Dr Hanamori told him, “or very deliberate.” 

“Very stupid,” Oriya whispered. “I had a migraine, and work has been stressful. I didn’t think.”

“In any case,” the Doctor continued, “you were lucky. You threw up while your friend was bringing you to the hospital, so we’ll keep you in for observation tonight and you’re staying on IV fluids until tomorrow, but I can say that you’re in the clear and you’ll make a full recovery.” He sat down. “Look, I’ll write down in the report that it was an accident because you’re still suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, but if you tell me the truth, I will do my best to help you.”

“It was an accident,” Oriya insisted. 

“Oriya-kun.”

“Dr Hanamori, you’ve known me since I was ten. When have I ever tried to hurt myself?”

“There’s always a first time, and you’ve been under a lot of stress lately.”

“Yes, but,” he sighed. “I would never neglect my duties to my family. You know that.” He smiled. “If I were to do that, I would have stayed at Tokyo and continued with my education instead of coming back home.”

“But you of all people know exactly how many pills to take, with what other pills to take them, and to take them with alcohol.” Dr Hanamori gave him an annoyed smile. “Two types of anti-anxiety pills is not an accident.”

“I had a migraine since last night, and I wasn’t thinking clearly when I took them. I probably forgot I had taken diazepam when I took lexotan.”

“And the alcohol?”

Oriya snorted. “It’s a miracle I’m not an alcoholic yet with my work.”

Dr Hanamori grimaced. “So, an accident?” he said, annoyed. 

He nodded. That would be his truth, and he would stick to it. 

“Well, if that is so,” Dr Hanamori said, shaking his head. 

“It is.” 

Dr Hanamori sighed. “I can’t help you when you don’t want to help yourself.” He stood up. “I will write it was an accident, but I wish you would reconsider my offer.”

“Thank you, but there is no need for me to do that. I did something stupid because I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Perhaps your friend can make you change your mind.”

Oriya doubted it.

Feilong came in the moment Dr Hanamori left. He closed the door and sat down, sighing. “I thought you were uncomplicated.”

Oriya frowned. 

“Why did you try to kill yourself?”

“I didn’t. It was an accident.”

“Your eyes don’t lie. And right now, your eyes tell me you’re lying.”

Oriya smiled. 

“Your smile lies too.”

“It was an accident.”

Feilong leaned down and kissed him. 

Oriya pushed him away. “I’m tired of getting pity fucks.”

“What? I don’t want to fuck you out of pity.”

“Right.”

“I came here to fuck you.”

“No, you came here to fuck a whore.”

“Because I thought it would be uncomplicated. Doesn’t mean I didn’t want you.”

Oriya glared at him. 

Feilong sat on the edge of the bed and started caressing his hand. 

“This is the point where you should be running back home, not trying to… I don’t know what it is you’re doing,” Oriya sighed. “I have issues. A lot of them.”

“Yes. But this is also the point where I realized that you could have died, and I could have lost you without even daring to have had you.”

“Eh?”

“I’ve been a coward. I wanted you almost from the first time I saw you but I didn’t dare make a move. I thought it was too much work trying to woo someone like you.”

“A whore,” Oriya muttered, and the weight on his chest doubled.

“Young Master?”

Oriya opened his eyes slowly, making a soft noise. A dream. What a strange, vivid dream. “I missed all my afternoon appointments and I’m late for work, aren’t I?” The left side of his head started throbbing. 

Maeda-san smiled at him. “Yes. Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please.”

She stayed where she was. “Young Master, I think you should take a small vacation. Throwing yourself into work immediately after what happened was not good for you. When was the last day you did not have a migraine?”

“Ah.” He sat up slowly. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” She patted his cheek. “Good boy.” She left as noiselessly as she’d come in. 

Oriya frowned. What a dream that was. It had been so real. He could still feel the crushing weight in the middle of his chest that he’d felt when he realized his suicide attempt had failed. The bitterness of vomit in his mouth, and the even greater bitterness of wanting Feilong knowing that he only wanted a whore. 

Tami-san was the one to bring him his tea. Oriya sat up straight. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I’ve notified your Father that you are unwell and that you are taking a break for the next two weeks.”

“You did?”

She smiled at him. “Yes, and he said the most important thing is that you get well. He also said that if you need more time off, you should take it.”

“He did?” He snorted. “I guess I wouldn’t be of much use to him if I worked myself to death.”

Tami-san hit him on the head. “You shouldn’t be so suspicious of people’s actions. Everyone here cares for you, and your father loves you.”

He snorted again. 

Tami-san stood up. “Take your time, Oriya-kun.” She sighed. “The Doctor had told us that you needed a break, but you seemed so happy to be back at work we didn’t listen.”

“Muraki said that?”

“Yes. You have a good friend in him.” She smiled. “Rest now.”

Oriya nodded and started sipping his tea. Then he changed his mind. He’d rather lie down and close his eyes again. Perhaps this time he’d have happy dreams. 

&*&*

The noise was soft, but it was enough to wake him. Someone was pacing outside his room. He sat up and reached for his short sword. “Come in.”

The door opened slowly and Feilong’s figure appeared in the small gap. “Tami-san said you were ill.”

“Just a migraine.”

“The same you had earlier?”

Oriya shrugged. He checked his mobile for the time. It was nine already. He’d slept all afternoon, but at least the migraine had been reduced to a slight pulsing pain instead of a crack in his skull. “Please, do come in.”

Feilong did. He crossed the room and sat next to him. 

“Did you go to the Dances of the Old Capital?”

“Yes. It was… an experience.”

“You didn’t like it.” 

“I did. It was very colourful and stately and impressive. But, I shouldn’t have drunk the tea. I feel like I had two triple espressos.” He laughed. “You have chamomile somewhere in here? I doubt I’ll manage to sleep as wired as I feel right now.”

He stood up. “I’ll make you some.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want some for myself as well.”

“Okay then. Thanks.” Feilong stayed where he was.

Oriya went to the kitchen, told everyone he was feeling fine, and prepared an infusion of chamomile, linden tea, and valerian root. He felt like he needed more sleep. When he went back to his room, he gave one of the mugs to Feilong and sat down again.

“I’m thinking of going back home tomorrow.”

“So soon?”

Feilong snorted. “You are busy, and so am I.” He suddenly gave Oriya a shy smile. “And I did get what I wanted.”

“You did.” He pressed the mug against his chest, hoping the warmth would take away the pain. 

“Well, almost,” Feilong smiled, looking at him. “I know you’ll hit me if I say it, but I would much rather have had you.”

Oriya put down his mug. Then he took Feilong’s mug from his fingers. “If it’s me you want, then…” He pulled Feilong close to him. “You can have me,” he whispered.   
Feilong laughed before kissing him. 

Oriya closed his eyes. If he could spend so many years clinging on to the memories of Muraki’s love, he could spend some time pretending Feilong wanted him.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning Oriya woke up for the first time in over a month without that slight pulse on the temple that warned him that he’d get a migraine later. Next to him Feilong, warm and loose-limbed, stirred, half-opened his eyes, and smiled at him. 

How on earth could I think that sex could compare to this? This is what Akihito had tried to tell me, but I couldn’t understand. Feilong caressed Oriya’s cheek, still smiling. Your eyes never lie. You don’t believe me that I want you. But I will persuade you somehow. I will. Feilong leaned closer and kissed him. 

Oriya closed his eyes. “Hey,” he whispered, when Feilong stopped. 

“Hey.”

“I have two weeks off. Can I spend them with you?”

Feilong’s joy was the most radiant emotion he had ever felt. It drove away all his dark thoughts, and Oriya vowed he would do everything he could to keep Feilong as happy as that moment. 

“I love you,” Feilong whispered. 

Oriya smiled. No, Feilong didn’t, but he would. The same way Oriya didn’t, but he would. For now, their mutual lust and desire was enough. Love would follow; Oriya was certain of it.


End file.
